


let me in(side your heart, in)side your body

by zenelly



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Sex Pollen, everything is wildly consensual but because of the situation the dubcon tag applies, happy valentines, sex pollen the nen ability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: (Wanting Kurapika is nothing new. Leorio has wanted Kurapika since the day they met, petulant and angry with it. Even the fever of it isn’t new, just ramped up, dialed to eleven by a force he isn’t in control of. Leorio won’t do that to Kurapika.But god, he wants to.)





	let me in(side your heart, in)side your body

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines Day! This is dubious consent by the way of sexpollen fuck or die and i'm not even sorry.

Leorio’s mouth tastes like a graveyard, and he swears that he’ll never drink this much again. Did he drink last night? It’s a bad sign that he isn’t sure, that he can’t remember, that it feels like he’s laying on the tile floor right in front of his door and not even his dilapidated mess of a couch. Sitting up, he makes a face at the puddle of drool beneath him, then-

This isn’t his floor.

Leorio stares down at the beige concrete with no small amount of concern. Panic is a distant thunder at the back of his skull, behind confusion and disorientation. “Where the fuck _am_ I?”

“Well,” comes a familiar voice, and Leorio whips his head up, winces when his whole skull _aches_ , sloshing around, “as far as I’ve figured out, hell. But that might just be my personal assessment.” Kurapika shifts, gasps. Leorio has a creeping sense of wrongness, stronger and stronger the more he looks at the high flush on Kurapika’s cheeks and the tightly wound way he holds himself. It may be the months it’s been since Leorio has seen him last, but Kurapika looks- good, even dressed down to just his white underclothes the way he is.  “Please, if you have another opinion, keep it to yourself unless your plan is to kill me.”

“Kurapika-“

“Don’t say a fucking word. Don’t speak to me. Leorio, it’s bad enough that I’m here. It’s only a matter of time-“ And Kurapika shivers, full body. Leorio breathes in, and finally notices a weight to the air, a heat that settles into his lungs. Kurapika presses his legs together.

“I can get us out of here,” Leorio swears, and he _will_ make it true. Sure, they’re in a… rather dingy cell from the looks of it, and Leorio can’t make out a handle or lock on the only visible door, but surely they’ve gotten out of worse situations. All he has to do is breathe and it’ll be fine. “And you, I haven’t seen you in _months_. The least you could do is be grateful that I’m even here. Will you never learn to pick up your fucking phone?”

Another breath. Another inhale of something warm and sweet. What was he thinking? He hasn’t seen Kurapika in months, right, that's what it was. Months, and he still looks a vision, golden and warm, and a little bloody at the corner of his mouth, and Leorio can't bring himself to be anything except glad to see him again.

Kurapika laughs, low and raspy. “You don’t even know where “here” is. Save your breath. Save your strength. You’re going to need it. We both are. And stay over there. If you come any closer, I’ll break your legs.”

 

* * *

 

It becomes rapidly clear that something is wrong with Kurapika. 

He’s breathing hard, first off; curled on his side with his legs up like he’s trying to protect his center, Leorio can see the way Kurapika’s chest heaves, no matter how quietly he tries to make his breaths. And it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just. That. But he’s making quiet noises too, tinged with… something that Leorio doesn’t quite have a name for.

Shifting, Kurapika groans, and that-

That and the slick noise of-

No. No, it couldn’t be.

But Leorio can’t think of any other possibility, any other explanation for the pleasure marked gasps or the telltale motion of his arm, working desperately between his legs. Leorio-

-wants to touch, wants with a sudden hunger. A burn that seizes him by the spine and propels him half out of his position against the wall. He’s halfway there by the time he comes back to himself, and Leorio _forces_ himself to stop. He’s not _that_ desperate for the sight of Kurapika jerking off. He’s not.

(He is. It isn’t a new thing. Leorio has never once been able to stop looking at Kurapika and wondering about the way his skin would taste, but he’s usually so much better at controlling himself. Something is wrong. Leorio feels unsafe in his own skin. Something is _wrong_.)

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika gasps, the first he’s spoken since Leorio woke up, and he sounds so desperate. “I’m so sorry, Leorio, I can’t stop anymore.”

Leorio desperately searches Kurapika’s face or at least the thin slice of it he can see for any hints, any clues. He doesn’t dare take another step closer. “Kurapika, do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

Kurapika laughs, a harsh and discordant thing that is quickly consumed by a gasp and a shivering arch of his body. He rolls up, putting his back to the wall. His hands. Leorio follows the line of them between Kurapika’s legs with hunger. He shouldn’t- He shouldn’t be looking. He can’t look anywhere else. Heat flashes across his entire body, center in his chest, in his dick, as arousal sets in.

“You shouldn’t-“

“I can’t _stop_.” Kurapika practically convulses, and Leorio helplessly tracks the flush crawling up his neck. Defeated, Kurapika rubs himself, shudders again. “Leorio, I can’t stop. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll die, I know it. Someone hit me with a Nen power and these are the consequences. I have to come, I can’t stop thinking about it, it’s all I’ve wanted for _hours_ -“

“Kurapika,” Leorio can only whisper helplessly.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me,” Kurapika pants. He leans his head back, thumping it against the wall as he shifts once, then again. “Don’t you even think about it.”

“I won’t.” Leorio’s nails bite into his hands. He won’t- can’t- take his eyes off of Kurapika. “But the moment you pass out, I’m coming over there.”

Kurapika’s eyes are hazy slits, barely open as his attention shifts focus to Leorio. Even from here, he can tell they’re a glowing scarlet. “Pervert.”

“Not to- Oh for fuck’s sake, Kurapika.” Leorio shakes his head. It does nothing to make him less dizzy. Kurapika is visibly aroused, chest heaving, legs pressed tightly together as he grinds the heel of his hand between his legs, and now that he’s looking at Leorio, he doesn’t seem to want to stop. “To check up on you. Make sure you’re still okay.”

“I’m fine, Leorio. You won’t be in a little, though.” Kurapika’s hand moves, his mouth dropping open. “This entire place is saturated with their Nen. If it’s already affecting me, it won’t be long for you. I’m sorry.”

Leorio-

Steps back.

One foot, then another.

He has to stop. He can’t touch Kurapika when they’re both like this, infected by Nen they barely understand. He won’t. He’s better than this, but it’s the fucking hardest thing he’s ever done when his entire body _yearns_ to touch Kurapika the way it wants to. To cover him and press into him and fuck him open and wanting until they’re sublime and satisfied.

Leorio can feel how good it would be in the sense-memory of his skin, the ghosts of lovers long past caressing his skin as he stares at Kurapika and _wants_.

He takes another step back, until his back collides with the wall again and he slowly sinks down.

Kurapika was right.

This is hell.

 

* * *

 

(Wanting Kurapika is nothing new. Leorio has wanted Kurapika since the day they met, petulant and angry with it. Even the fever of it isn’t new, just ramped up, dialed to eleven by a force he isn’t in control of. Leorio won’t do that to Kurapika.

But _god_ , he wants to.)

 

* * *

 

It only gets worse.

With Kurapika’s panting breaths echoing in his ears even when he closes his eyes, Leorio’s arousal is driven to new heights, and Kurapika has stopped telling him to stay away, trading safety for need. Kurapika comes once, a desperate, stifled, unsatisfying orgasm. He’s barely finished before his hand is between his legs again, working desperately, newly wet.

Leorio opens his mouth to tell him to stop, that surely the fever can’t be that bad, but-

“Kurapika, let me see,” he says instead, and Kurapika spreads his legs immediately, letting Leorio’s hungry eyes watch the hidden shape of his hand beneath his pants. Leorio’s hips jerk with the motion. That could be him. That _should_ be him.

He feels-

Crazy, unhinged. His pulse echoes everywhere in his body, oversensitive and raw, even the barest brush of air enough to make his dick twitch, a telltale wetness spreading from the tip. Leorio has run fevers that feel less severe than the heat boiling inside of him now. He can’t stop staring at the curve of Kurapika’s thighs, the hard jut of his hip, the parted, pink, soft swell of his chapped lips, bitten wet and raw by now. Leorio wants to taste him. Wants to lick every inch of him to tongue him open and make him _cry for it_ -

His fingernails bite into the palm of his hands. He’ll be good.

He has to be.

But the desire is only getting worse and worse with every motion of Kurapika’s hands, every breathy sigh. Leorio shifts and has to strangle back a noise at how hard he is. His dick presses insistently against his zipper. It takes an inhuman force of will to keep his back against the wall, hands by his sides. His fingers curl around cold metal, a pair of manacles, even though his eyes don’t leave Kurapika for a moment.

And Leorio gets a terrible idea.

The manacles are attached to the wall with a thick, heavy chain. If he just. Locks himself up. He won’t go over and ruin whatever has been growing between him and Kurapika with his careless hands. With one, swift movement, he locks one wrist in. Then the other.

For a moment, a blessed, cool moment, there is silence.

Then a step.

Leorio’s eyes are drawn back to Kurapika the way a dying man seeks water. Helpless. Kurapika takes another unsteady step. He’s moving carefully, but even that does nothing to diminish his clear arousal, the way his nipples peak through his thin white shirt. The wetness dampening the white cloth to something nearly clear.

“Why did you do that, Leorio?” Kurapika’s eyes are blown wide and dark, and he licks his lips as he stares at the manacles around Leorio’s wrist.

Honestly, now that Leorio’s sitting here thinking about it, it’s a pretty dumb idea. But it’s too late to worry about it now. He tugs at the chain, and the feeling of the manacle, the pressure around his wrist has arousal tightening all over his skin, a wash of want. “If I didn’t, I would come over there,” Leorio rasps. “I don’t know what I’d do to you if I did, and I can’t- I can’t do that to you, Kurapika.”

Kurapika shakes his head. Like he’s trying to clear it, except his eyes are glowing and they keep tracking back to Leorio, down Leorio’s body, like he can’t help it.

He probably can’t.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Kurapika says, low and throaty as he takes another step closer. Half the space of the cell remains between them now and Leorio hates every inch of the space. Something isn’t right about the way he’s moving, loose and jerky all in one, like he wants to come closer and is trying to stay away. “Now you can’t get away from me.”

Well shit.

And with that, Kurapika’s restraint breaks.

In a flash, he’s all the way in Leorio’s space, his shirt discarded, flinging pants off his ankles with a motion that would be hilarious in any other circumstance. This close, Leorio can smell him, the heavy scent of his arousal, and Leorio doesn’t know where to look. The bright of his nipples, the trail of dark blond hair running into sweat damp curls, his flushed arousal.

It’s nothing, though, compared to Kurapika’s hand dragging through his hair. Leorio finds suddenly that he can look nowhere else, Kurapika’s mouth too captivating to ignore, the glow of his eyes overimposing everything else in the room. Kurapika leans in.

Kisses him like he’s trying to crawl inside Leorio, settling his weight across Leorio’s lap. Leorio moans, pitchy, opens himself for every press of Kurapika’s lips, every drag of his hips against Leorio’s. He’s going to die, there’s nothing else for it, and Leorio gets, for the first time, exactly how Kurapika got to be so worked up because he _knows_ he can’t stop. If he stops, he’ll die. If Leorio doesn’t get inside Kurapika _soon_ , he’ll die.

Kurapika bites his lip, snapping him out of his thoughts and right back into straining for every hint of Kurapika’s warmth.

“Fuck,” Kurapika groans, pulling back. He slides a hand between them, cupping himself again, and back, further. “Fuck, Leorio, we should have been doing this forever.”

He screws his hips backwards, shaking and uncoordinated and desperate with sensation as he works himself on his own fingers, uncaring of how fast he’s going. Leorio watches, greedy, as Kurapika adds one finger, and another. He knows it’s too fast. Knows that it has to hurt, but there’s nothing but red, wild-eyed want on Kurapika’s face, the desire of a man possessed.

“Kurapika,” Leorio gasps.

“I want to fuck you. So bad. So fucking bad, Leorio.” Kurapika’s heels skid on the floor as he tries to find purchase, vacillating between having his hips up for a better angle and having his knees as wide as possible. Leorio wants nothing more than to reach out and grab him, and the tug of the manacles is the only thing that stops his wild lunge forward.

“Do it, _do it_ , come _here_ , Kurapika,” he begs with his heart between his teeth. It isn’t just whatever Nen condition that’s driving him nuts. This is what Leorio has wanted for years now, to have Kurapika within reach, and he feels mad with want by the time Kurapika shifts, pulls his fingers out, and lines up properly.

When Leorio sinks into him –finally, _finally-_ he lets out a wounded noise. Kurapika’s fingers tighten, hard on Leorio’s biceps, dimpling the skin to the point of bruising. Leorio feels like dying, like heaven, like nothing in the world will be as good as the hot clutch of Kurapika around him.

Leorio can’t use his hands. He can’t brush away the trail of tears that keeps tracking down Kurapika’s face. He can’t frame Kurapika’s hips or face with his palms and urge him on. He locked himself over here for Kurapika’s sake and now he can’t even reach out and offer him comfort.

(The world is moving too slowly. In snapshots running dark with arousal. Leorio feels dizzy and drunk on the taste of Kurapika’s skin.)

“Hey, babe. Babe,” he murmurs against Kurapika’s temple, his cheek, his collarbones and the surge of Leorio’s teeth against flesh. “Sweetheart.”

“Shut up, _please_ , I can’t-“ Kurapika whines, eyes blazing, flooding his face with color. “If you do that, I can’t think, Leorio, please don’t start with the pet names.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Leorio says again, tender and cruel because the heat in him won’t allow him to be anything but, “Trust me. I’ve got you, okay?”

And Kurapika laughs. Short and wild as he fucks himself on Leorio’s dick, hands fumbling for purchase on Leorio’s sweat-slick shoulders, in his short hair. Panting, he says, “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Please, Leorio, _please_.”

He drives in again and again, mindless and desperate, short sharp thrusts that have Kurapika’s body shaking.

“I didn’t want it like this,” Kurapika groans, the shuddering heat of his body too much for Leorio to bear.

“How?” Leorio sets his teeth to Kurapika’s throat until he tastes blood and knowing that even that isn’t close enough. He needs more. “How did you want it?”

Kurapika’s hair flies around him, a golden halo. “Better than this. Softer. When I was done and I could come home to you properly.”

“Then _stay_ ,” Leorio says. “When we’re through with this. Stay with me.”

“You pick the worst times to have this conversation, Leorio. Come in me, give it to me. I _need_ -“ And Kurapika’s voice goes high-pitched and needy, breaking on a scream as his body jerks, milking Leorio for all he’s worth.

Barely a breath. A moment of clear air.

Leorio feels the haze lift for a moment and feels- sore, dirty, like he should be doing anything other than fucking Kurapika in an unfamiliar, strange cell because of some stranger’s Nen. But even the thought, the reminder of how cum drips out of Kurapika around Leorio’s cock has him twitching with interest, feeling the hot pulse of Kurapika’s heartbeat in the most intimate fold of his body.

“Fuck.” Kurapika pulls Leorio’s hair, a razorblade to his nerves. “ _Fuck_.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Leorio gasps, and gets his heels underneath him to fuck up into Kurapika again, the wet noises of sex filling the room around them.

Somewhere in the endless morass between the third (fourth?) time and what’s probably the sixth (or the seventh, or eighth, it’s not like Leorio has the capacity to count anymore), they catch a breather. Kurapika sinks onto his cock, too shaky to move, and for a moment, they stay there, hot and sweaty, the air humid between them. Every surface is wet with sweat and saliva and cum, and Leorio knows that if Kurapika doesn’t move soon, they’ll end up glued together, but he can’t bring himself to care. For just this moment, he has Kurapika in his arms. Just resting.

He shifts forward, pressing their foreheads together. Dazedly, Kurapika’s eyes flutter open, slits of mottled red and grey.

“Hey,” Leorio murmurs. Tries to. His voice is more of a hoarse wreck than anything else, but Kurapika leans a little harder into him.

“Hey yourself.”

“You alright?”

Kurapika huffs out a laugh that sends a ripple through his body, clenching around Leorio, and he rides the reflexive buck for that easily. “Yeah. I mean, we’re dying, but yeah, I’m fine.”

Leorio’s mouth pulls to the side. Kurapika’s gaze tracks the motion as well as he can from so close by before he leans forward and chases it with his own mouth. “We’re not dying,” Leorio says when they part, and it’s harder, again, to stop the roll of his hips, the feverbright awareness of how Kurapika’s body is clenched around him. “We’re going to be fine.”

“That’s the kind of optimism I leave to you, Leorio,” Kurapika groans. Shaking legs lift him up, drive him back down, and that’s it, they’re off again, desperate and grasping.

Leorio doesn’t remember the haze leaving. Just remembers the hot clutch of Kurapika’s body around his cock, when they move to lay down, hitching Kurapika’s leg over Leorio’s hip and filling him up even more with the only thing that even comes close to slowing their mutual fever. He doesn’t remember how sore he is, how overworked, the way his heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest and straight into Kurapika’s.

He remembers the kisses slowing. The tears are long gone, and the desperation takes a different tone as Leorio lets himself linger. Is able, even, to linger.

“We’re talking about this later,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the finger and mouth-bruised skin of Kurapika’s inner thigh.

Kurapika makes a rough noise. “Later,” he agrees, and this time, when Leorio slides home, Kurapika’s eyes are a plain, dark grey, wondering and loving as he traces Leorio’s face with his fingertips. “We can talk about anything you’d like.”

**Author's Note:**

> omake: they end up breaking out of the cell and kicking ass, going home, talking about it properly, and then married four months later in yorknew city. killua never lets them live it down. Gon takes notes.


End file.
